Vindicated
by TheManWithTheGoldenIpod
Summary: Mark GreeneSusan Lewis. Complete...for now. I may decided to keep going. But for now, complete. I think. Maybe. Sort of. Hey, somebody define 'complete' please....
1. Default Chapter

VINDICATED 

Mark Greene/Susan Lewis. Inspired by the song from "Spider-Man 2". Anachronistic? Yes, but then so is the whole Mark & Susan concept. Begins with 'the chase' in the episode "Union Station".

Standard disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't own the idea, don't own the song lyrics, just a writer with too much time on their hands and no ambition to create anything on their own.

VINDICATED

**Hope dangles on a string,**

**Like slow-spinning redemption,**

**Winding in, and winding out.**

**The shine of it has caught my eye,**

**And roped me in so, mesmerizing, so**

**Hypnotizing, captivated I am**

Mark Greene's heart was beginning to pound with every step of his feet smashing the pavement. _You'll regret it for the rest of your life, _ Doug had said. And he was right. Greene had to do this, he had to find out. He'd rack his brain forever, wondering what could have been, if he didn't at least try for it.

He was running short of breath now, huffing his way down Monroe St, cutting across a couple blocks, using whatever leg strength all those early runs over the lake had built up inside him. November's cold front was settling in, he could feel his breath lumping in his throat and visualizing in front of him.

Union Station is an impressive structure, it's columns immortalized in films like _The Untouchables_, and it stood as an icon of Chicago's tough Midwest identity. For Greene it stood in his way as he was practically flying now, all too aware of the time and the circumstances and the fact that he had no clue what the hell he was going to say, if he even got a chance to say anything at all.

The automatic doors at Track 10 seemed to move in slow motion and his heart sank at what he saw - emptiness. _I am almost ten minutes late_ he tried to remind himself, but frustration was broiling and he was about to swear outloud when a helpful attendant mentioned that Amtrak West-bound had been moved to Track Six. _He'd been saved by a technicality! _He scanned the track from a distance and saw her, and the only thing that came to mind was her name.

"Susan!" He yelled before sprinting back inside and over to six.

Again, those damn doors wouldn't open fast enough. He was running on exhaust now, he could tell the train was about to be moving along.

"Susan! SUSAN!" He could see her, she wasn't a mirage, but then she'd gotten on the train! Greene panicked again but then Susan poked her head out just to see if she'd seen what she thought she'd seen.

"Mark! My God, are you OK?"

What could he do except nod? He'd been denied oxygen for the last several minutes, or so it felt. He looked up to see Susan smile at him.

"You came to say goodbye?"

                        Then it was all a blur, one thought rapidly replacing another in his head

_Don't fuck this up, not now!_

"No - stay. I want you to stay."

_She's not smiling anymore_

"But..Mark, I"

_Now or never._

"I love you. And I'm stupid for not saying it before."

_Oh God. Oh God. She can barely look at me._

"No..it's OK. I knew. In a way I knew."

"Stay. We belong together. Tell me you don't feel the same."

_Shit. The die's been cast and I just bet on a losing square. SheÉ.she doesn't. Say something, Susan!_

"I'm sorry."

_Anything but that._

"We're right together."

"Mark..you are my best friend in the whole world, I don't know how I'm gonna make it without you."

"Don't go!"

_That was easy enough._

"I have to. I don't belong here anymore, I have a new life, it's moving in a different direction."

_I can't feel my legs anymore, possibly because my heart doesn't feel like it's beating anymore. But she can't tell me she doesn't feel the same - she hasn't said that yet._

"Susan, I don't wanna lose you."

_And now I'm about to cry. And so is she..And she's kissing me now. This cannot be happening, can it? She's gonna stay._

"I'll never forget you."

_She isn't going to stay. She's getting on that train. She's really doing it._

"I _do_ love you."

_WHAT?!? WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY?!?_

"I love you! Bye!"

Greene stood on the platform, and he couldn't help but be angry.

"Is that all there is?" He asked, aloud but not so that others could hear.

It hadn't been a dream. She had told him she loved him, but that evidently wasn't enough for her. She had said once that all she had was her work, that it wasn't enough. Then she'd said there was nothing left for her in Chicago. Managing to stumble back into the train terminal and to a bench, he recalled those times, and dozens of others, when he could have said something, could have done something to make her understand that he was falling in love with her.

The anger vanished almost as quickly as it came. He could never be angry at her, not permanently anyway. Maybe this was just another cruel life lesson, the Big Guy reminding him that not everything would end the way he thought it should. It wasn't like his old comic book heroes, Spider-Man and Cyclops and Daredevil, who always triumphed over evil and got the girl. _If that's the case_, he thought, recalling Jodi O'Brien and his broken family and his more-than-distant relationship with his parents, among other things, _this is one lesson I'm getting sick of learning_.

Finally, with breath restored, he thought back to what she'd said. "I love you". He could tell she had meant it, that it hadn't been some kind of throwaway gesture. Even so, her feelings either weren't as strong for him as his had become for her, or she had decided that her life in Chicago really had come to a close and it was time to start a new one in Phoenix. Maybe it would just have to be settled at that. _Maybe it's better that way_, he reasoned. Hell, if they had belonged together, if something had truly been meant to happen, wouldn't it have happened already?

And even so, he somehow oddly felt vindicated, albeit in a narrow sense. He had finally faced her and told her, finally heard the truth. She _did_ love him, and he loved her. But fate and circumstance said that they couldn't be together.

An hour passed by. Two. Then three. There was no point in going back to the hospital, his shift was over and Weaver could bitch at him tomorrow. Mark Greene zipped his coat back up, his scrubs still moist with the sweat of his impromptu blitz around town, and trudged out into a cold city at dusk, in search of something to do. _I **was**__ right_, was the best he could do to console himself.

And for the time being, that would have to be enough.

TO BE CONTINUED (unless you all hate it, in which case not)


	2. Chapter 2

**I am selfish, I am wrong, **

**I am right, I swear I'm right,**

**Swear I knew it all along**

She pulled her head back inside, conscious of the fact that if she looked at him a second longer she'd jump off and run back to him. Her heart was screaming that it was exactly what she should do, but something in her mind wasn't connecting all the dots at the moment.

_He loves me_. That thought was inundating her head as she showed herself to a seat in the passenger car, trying to avoid everybody else on a half-full train, completely lost in her thoughts.

How had it come to this? She'd gotten so close on several occasions that day, her last in the ER, to pulling him aside and begging. Begging him to stop acting so strange, stop talking like he was never going to see her again Ð they'd remain friends, right? She'd asked him that and he'd said yes, however tentatively. But mostly she wanted to beg him for a reason to stay. And at the moment of truth, her wanting that was exactly why she left quietly, sneaking out under the cover of an MVA, because she felt like she now had to make a good on a promise to see her niece grow up.

That was the other reason she didn't want to say goodbye to him, at least not directly. There was always the possibility that he'd ask point blank why she was leaving. It wasn't because there was nothing in Chicago - that had been a lie and she knew it and quite frankly she had secretly hoped it would lead to something between them. She wasn't running on into something new, she was heading to Phoenix with the hope that something old would be rekindled. In a funny way, she thought that she now understood what kept Mark & Doug so close Ð they were negative complements in a positive way, one of them responsible and the other care-free, one of them tied down and the other running wild, so that neither ever got too far off the edge. That same yin-yang relationship had been between her and Chloe since forever. The idea of having to forge a new life without it had been scary, particularly with Little Suzie, who she loved like a daughter, now part of the equation.

Finally, she reasoned, it was time to close off her life in Chicago. Besides, if something had truly been meant for her and Mark, wouldn't it have happened by now?

There had been little bits and asides ever since they'd met, and things got harder and harder to ignore once he'd split from Jennifer. She'd been in love with him for a long time before that, though knowing he'd never cheat on his wife had made it seem OK, since nothing would ever come of it. She thought about when she had first known, been able to think, _Yes, I am in love with him_. It was that morning in the trauma room, the two of them standing across from each other over Jodi O'Brien. The color was drained from his face, he looked so scared and alone and defeated, in spite of the fact that what he'd just done was more than every other doctor in that ER put together would have been able to do. She wanted to take him home, hold him, just let him know that things would be OK.

Still, he had gone off to figure it out on his own, to beat himself up, which was his style. He deserved better. He was there for Doug, for Carol, for Carter, even for Benton, and for her most of all, but he wouldn't allow people to be there for him.

So as she was about to step on the train, she had finally convinced herself that it was OK, in fact it was better that she go and not have to wait, pondering if anything could ever be between them besides friendship. However she may have felt, he didn't seem to reciprocate those feelings.

Then he showed up, and her neat little house of cards got blown over in the blink of an eye.

She'd had to fight to get on that train, not seeming to realize that it wasn't desperation talking, it was Mark and he would never tell her _that_ if he hadn't meant it. Somehow she'd fooled herself into thinking that all she really wanted was his friendship. But her heart was screaming, "_TELL HIM! TELL HIM!_" And she'd gotten her head back out that window and told him. Somehow, it had been easier to retreat to a life she'd gotten comfortable with than attempt to make a new one.

_But things are different now_, she mentally noted. _He DOES feel the same way_. _And I knew it, I knew it the whole time_. Humorously, in a way that made her giggle through the tears, she thought of "Back to the Future". Like McFly, she now was in a position to go back and remodel her life. She'd been given a glimpse of what her future could hold, and now she could change it if she wanted to. She wanted to. But how?  
  
Between quietly sobbing to herself and dissecting that wild finish at Union Station, she hadn't noticed that night was falling and the train had pulled into its first scheduled stop, Kansas City. There'd be a half-hour holdover so the train could switch tracks and pick up additional passengers.

She headed out to the terminal and for a payphone. It was nearly 8:00, he'd be home, right? She was about to pick up the receiver when the full weight of it all hit her. _I'm the last person on Earth he'll want to talk to_. She couldn't escape that thought, and it was a reasonable assumption. She could see the pain in his face and his eyes, practically feel his heart breaking along with hers when they kissed.

She placed the receiver back on its hook and stared at her feet.

"I'm in love with him" she muttered under her breath, but loud enough so any part of her that might doubt it would hear.

And convincing herself would have to suffice for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three here, since there's at least one person out there who wishes the story continued. But if anybody wishes more, I need inspiration to write more.**

His original plan of avoiding the hospital like the plague, maybe just wandering uptown to The Cubby Bear and getting plastered, had backfired. His car was still parked in the garage, and he still wanted to get home somehow. He snuck in and out, not even stopping by the ER, thankful he'd never removed the keys from his coat pocket.

He started driving, but for some bizarre reason he headed southwest, pulling onto the Stevenson. He wasn't ready to go home yet. He just started driving, out of the city, away from the hospital, away from his problems. Too many things had the potential to remind him of Susan. That was what it would be like for the time being Ð every time a trauma came in, or a bounce-back regular asked for Dr. Lewis, or a funny prank was called for, just about anything that made working at County special had in one way or another involved Susan. And all of it was gone now.

It occurred to him as he slipped out of Cook and into DuPage County that he could just keep going. _The Stevenson feeds West-bound, into the Old Route 66 system_, he reminded himself. "It winds from Chicago to L.A." he mentally hummed, recalling Carter's melodious "Madame X" from two winters ago. He could drive all night and all day, and he'd be in Phoenix. Nothing could stop him, unless he wanted to be stopped.

Two things however were conspiring against him: one, he'd already asked too much of her, attempting to guilt her into staying and throwing her world completely out of order. At first he'd been angry, but one of the things that soothed him was realizing it couldn't have been easy for her. _He_ was the one who'd made it so difficult anyway. Secondly, he was dangerously low on gas.

He managed to find a turn-off into Downers Grove,  pulling into a gas station which (just his luck) was right next to a train station with a late-night commuter express dropping off passengers. He pulled out the pump and his thoughts wandered to all of his old college and med school buddies, his acquaintances in the residency program, nearly all of whom had moved on to more lucrative fields in the private sector, owning well-kept houses in villages like Downers Grove, and Hinsdale, and Winnetka, and Lake Forest. He recalled how they thought it was crazy to stay in an urban ER when they could be making quadruple the money for quite frankly far less challenging work. _Maybe I should call Dr. Harris and ask if that job offer has a three-year acceptance window_, he thought. Working in the ER was a bit of hassle, often asking more than he seemed willing to give. _But that's who I am_, he recalled with a sense of bitterness where normally there may have been pride. _I always do it the hard way_.

Finishing up the van's massive gas tank, his eyes now wandered across the train tracks to the bright lights of a movie theater. _Maybe something good's playing_, so he pulled the van into an empty spot and walked across the street. It was one of the old Tivoli movie theaters, as old as the town itself but less polished. Here you still had gum stuck to the floors, those old-fashioned seats with red cushions, and nothing better than average film presentation and all the films were in their fourth or fifth month of general release. It was Greene's kind of place.

It was approaching 10:00, but the Tivoli was still yet to show one film, part of what they called "After Hours New Classic Film Society". It sounded like a geeky debate club about the finer points of Kurosawa and the ironies of _Rashomon_. Greene scanned the Society's ad in the window and looked up tonight's film: _The Shawshank Redemption_.

"I guess that actually did mean _new_ classic", he muttered, noting that _Born of the Fourth of July_ and _The Piano _were also on the slate for other weeks. He bought one ticket, a large Coke and a box of DOTS. Somehow, it seemed like the most appropriate thing he could be doing right now.

The theater was half full, mainly retirees and couples out for an evening. He snagged a seat in the far backhand left corner, imagining what most of them did and how much they were paying their babysitters that evening. _Babysitting's a good gig_, he mused. _Maybe I should give it a go_. He smiled to spite himself. The lights went low and the strains of an old 40s love song began playing over the main titles.

Greene remembered why he loved this movie, cheering and laughing and recoiling at all the appropriate moments, and feeling tremendously proud when Andy Dufresne finally emerged on the other side of that pipeline a free man. Maybe he harbored jealousy, seeing that Dufresne seemed to be at long last getting what he wanted while sticking it to the warden. But mainly it was just incredible.

And then Morgan Freeman, as Red, recalled the bittersweet joy of seeing his friend vanish:

            _"...I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice. But still, the place you're in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone...I guess I just miss my friend_."

Greene felt a lump in his throat. The cliched "art imitates life" theme had not been his intention tonight, but it was there nonetheless. It was a bit spooky how much that sentiment applied to his situation. If anybody deserved happiness, it was Susan, and she had not been happy since the loss of Little Suzie. He had an inkling of what that loss must have meant to her, having been reduced to a tertiary character in Rachel's life by his maniac schedule and his manipulative ex-wife. But all that was his own fault. Susan had done nothing wrong, she'd given up just about everything in the way of career advancements and put an abandoned child first, giving her all the care and love she had to give. It was sort of poetic justice that he'd lost Rachel, but it was a grave miscarriage that Susan had lost Little Suzie. So if being in Phoenix, if seeing her niece and her sister and learning to stand on her own two feet was what made her happy, how could he begrudge that? _I can't_, came the answer, and at the same time he smiled when Dufresne and Red were finally sharing a hug on the beach.

The credits rolled and some thin man in glasses grabbed a microphone and began discussing the film. Here was where Greene's debate club fears were realized. The questions came: What did Darabont mean to show us by showing the before & the after simultaneously in the opening? How does Andy's struggle to maintain hope relate to us as viewers? Greene just sat there, munching on DOTS, listening to the Pauline Kael wannabes offer up their interpretations.

He missed her already. He wanted her to be happy, and had hoped maybe he could be the one to make her happy, but she'd grown out of that timid shell of a second-year who backed away from a fight into a super-confident, mature woman. The choice was hers, and she had made it. He would slowly have to accept it. And in his heart, broken though it was, he smiled at the idea of Susan once again connecting with the happiness that little girl had brought into her life. _She deserves it_, he reminded himself.

Even so, his life, working at County, his new home in particular...everything about Chicago would be that much more empty now that she was gone.

**To be, or not to be, continued? What do you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four, longer and more fleshed out than the others, cause when the lightning bolt of inspiration hits you run with it, right? The real story is just beginning here, so hang with me. What is past is prologue.**

> > > 

**So clear, like the diamond in your ring**

**Cut to mirror your intention,**

**Oversized, overwhelmed,**

**The shine of which has caught my eye,**

**And rendered me so, isolated, so motivated,**

**I am, certain now that I am**

> > > 

Doug Ross had never seen his friend so miserable.

Nearly two months had passed since one of his good friends, Susan Lewis, had left him one heart-broken best friend, Mark Greene. The whole ER agreed: they'd never seen Mark so despondent in his life. To Ross it was both a good and bad sign: bad of course that things had ended that way, but good because it showed how much Mark had cared for her. Doug had never liked Mark's wife, but of course "the guy code" prohibited saying so while they were married, and during the first year as a divorcee, Doug had worried that Jen sucked all the life out of his friend. He'd been proved wrong on that count, as he could see Mark drawing closer and closer to Susan. The romantic in him was sure he was going to come waltzing back into the ER that November evening with her wrapped in his arms, that was how certain he was that they were a good match. Jerry & E-Ray had even started up an office pool on it, each taking a square to represent the hour when Dr. Lewis would walk back into the ER, with escalating bets as to whether it was alongside Dr. Greene. But Mark came into work the next afternoon head hung low, not needing to say anything. Nobody won the bet, and E-Ray ordered up vegean burgers and goat-cheese pizza for a staff Thanksgiving dinner with the money.

Now, with Chicago's bitter February cold outside him, Doug was limping back to the admit desk, feeling pretty miserable himself after sending Jad Houston upstairs. He pulled into the desk area and glanced at the clock – 6:45, fifteen minutes to go.

"What've you got Jerry – it better be easy."

Jerry held out a chart, but not so close that Doug could reach it across the desk.

"Earache on a seven-month old."

Doug held out his hand automatically for the chart, but it wasn't placed in his hand. Jerry stood there, glancing mischeviously. Doug just rolled his eyes as he knew what was coming:

"You lovin' me now, aren't ya?", Jerry bellowed.

"I'm not about love, I'm about showing you the money." Doug drawled back. Ever since _Jerry Maguire_ had hit the screens, Jerry the desk clerk had been obsessed with it, and it seemed to Doug that everybody in the ER had the whole film memorized regardless of whether or not they'd seen it themselves. He trudged off with the cane still hampering him, past the Nurses Station where he saw Mark poring over charts.

"I thought you were off proving it was possible to be in three places at once."

"My schedule cleared up suddenly", Mark said flatly, as if he didn't care whether he maintained a social life or not. Then Doug caught Mark raising his hand and snapping a small rubber band clasped on his wrist.

"What's that?" Ross asked.

"Impulse control", came the reply, again completely monotone.

"My shift's over in fifteen minutes, let's do something. We'll stop at the Billy Goat and get a _cheeezborger_."

Even Doug's best Belushi impersonation failed to illicit a response. Finally Greene flipped his pen down and looked up.

"I was thinking of seeing a movie. I'd invite you to take advantage of that dinner reservation, but I think two guys dining at _Cerise_ might raise some eyebrows."

"Sounds good. Anything worth seeing these days?"

As if on cue, Carter walked passed on the other side of the glass, shouting gleefully back to the desk, "I'm not about love, I'm about showing _you_ the money!"

"He takes way too much pleasure in that", Mark deadpanned.

"He got to take out Benton's appendix, I'm jealous. I'm just hoping Kerry comes down with a really nasty bowel infarction, or maybe a tonsillectomy so I can accidentally remove the vocal.." Doug noticed Greene's gaze had wandered off. "She's behind me, right?"

Doug turned and saw the 5'4" doc with red hair and temperament to match.

"You still have a patient on the board," she said to Ross, with a look that might've burned through his skin with the proper heat dispersal equipment. She took off, and Doug turned back to see Greene doing something he hadn't done in a long time – laughing.

"So, what do we see tonight?" Mark asked between smiles.

They looked at each other and took Carter's appearance as a sign.

"At least we'll know what the hell Jerry's talking about from now on."

> > > 

Carol Hathaway lay in bed, evening rolling on the windows, with absolutely nothing to do except sleep. But it seemed wrong to be at home – she was supposed to be at work, doing her job, and she deserved to be punished but didn't think it would result in her whole life being dangled in front of her. Just the same, maybe being cornered as a nurse wasn't worth it. Maybe medical school really was the way to go. The test was coming up, she had only a short time to decide if she still wanted in.

So she just lay there, watching the ceiling, when the phone rang.

A sixth-sense seemed to tell her something important was on the line and she snatched the phone before it could get in a second ring. "Hello?"

She nearly dropped the phone when she heard the voice on the other end.

> > > 

Doug and Mark were riding the train out to Downers Grove. _Why the hell are we going to Downers Grove? _He wondered if maybe it was some secret cry for help, but figured Mark was his friend and Doug knew as well as anything that love made you do strange things. The train pulled off into the burbs and Doug saw their destination: one of the old Tivoli movie theaters right across the street from the station.

It was the late screening, the last show of the night, and they were the only two in a huge theater. Ross wondered why Greene felt the two of them having dinner at that fancy French place on Michigan Ave. would be weirder than doing _this_. But he left well enough alone, again remembering "the code".

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Doug finally broke the silence once they were seated and waiting. Mark feigned ignorance.

"What?"

"Two months, you're trying so hard to forget her it's getting a little funny. What the hell were you doing trying to date three women in one night? Where'd my domestic role model go?" Doug was ready to go on, but seemed to realize maybe he'd pushed too much. Mark just blankly looked back at him, and then sighed.

"It just plain sucks, Doug. It's not even so much about us being...you know, as if we were you and Carol. It just sucks that she's gone."

Doug had no answer for that. He'd been expecting Mark to angrily dismiss him, or dodge the subject all together. Instead he was actually talking about his feelings. It was uncharted territory for them. Doug always was open about his – he remembered constantly musing to Mark about Carol back when she was still going with Taglieri, also about Diane Leeds and the constant revolving door of his bedroom. But while Mark often asked for advice on the matters of the human heart, he seldom shared how he felt. That he kept an internal affair.

"Things can still work out", was the best response Doug could muster. Mark smiled but it was drowning with bitterness.  
"We haven't talked in two months, whatever was there is gone. I screwed it up." Mark stared at his bowl of popcorn as the lights flashed to signal the beginning of the movie.

"You never know what fate has in store, right?" Doug offered. Mark didn't respond.

> > > 

"Susan?" Carol practically had to choke the name out of herself, stunned to hear her voice.

On the other end, Susan was very aware at how awkward it must have been for Carol to pick up the phone and hear the vanishing doctor on the line.

"Are you OK? Am I interrupting?"

"No, no" Carol blurted, thoughts beginning to collect. "It's just great to hear from you. How's Phoenix?"

Susan flinched. _Tell the truth or just let things be hidden?_

"It's OK. The heat can be a real bitch though."

"Yeah, you must really have it awful", Carol shot back with a chuckle. "So what's up? We all miss you back here."

Now Susan was really tentative, she had hoped they could girl talk for a while before ever actually arriving at her reason for calling. She stammered as she attempted to steer the conversation in another direction.

"I just...I miss you guys too. I--", and words failed her. A snap on the phone connection was heard, but Susan was still there. "I wanted to...Carol.."

Carol could feel the question coming a mile away and had no problem skipping to the bottom of the page. "How's Mark?" She said it like she was asking but was also making it very clear that is was what Susan was intent on knowing. A few beats of awkward silence passed and Susan let out a sigh, "Yeah."

Carol cleared her throat and jumped out of bed. "Well" she began as she made for the comfortable rocker in front of her dresser mirror, "for starters, you need to come back."

> > > 

Mark & Doug were surprised. This had turned out to be a flipping fantastic movie. They'd both practically fallen over laughing during the "Show me the money!" scene, and the whole idea of one man securing vengeance against the evil establishment – mixed in with that most American of pastimes, sports – was distracting them from the very crappy days they'd had.

Greene imagined that he himself was Jerry Maguire, striking out a blow on behalf of the decent in a world of indecency. Doug was of course Tidwell in his alternate universe, flamboyant and unapologetic. It was a no-brainer that Weaver was Bob Sugar. When Chad the Nanny showed up, insistent upon being called a "child technician" to make his job sound twice as complicated, Greene began to wonder if Cameron Crowe had been hanging out with E-Ray and Jerry and that was why the desk clerks loved the movie so much,

Doug was having a good time watching, but could smell trouble. Nobody warned them that this was slowly going to turn into a gushy love-story chick flick. Mark was in a fragile place at the moment, and Doug thought maybe one more sappy, happy ending example of what had been constantly denied him might drive him nuts. The film rolled into a scene where Rod Tidwell was storming off the set of a TV commercial while coolly advising Maguire on his relationship with Dorothy, who was on the verge of leaving town.

_Do you love her_? Tidwell barked from the screen.

_How do I know?_

_What do you mean how do you know – you know when you know_.

_Well...I don't want her to go_.  
_Hold right there – that's bullshit - you gotta have "the talk"._

If Mark had looked around at the moment, he would've seen Doug shooting a concerned look at him. But Mark was too lost in his thoughts. Like that first time at the Tivoli, where he'd since become a frequent visitor for reasons unknown, other media seemed intent on communicating his thoughts. Was that the reason he'd chased Susan? Had he just wanted her to stay so badly that he'd been willing to do anything to achieve that? Really, she was the only person he completely trusted. Doug was his bosom buddy, but they had wildly differing philosophies on life, love, marriage, work, just about everything they did suggested that they be mortal enemies. Yet, probably because of how different they were, they figured out how to bring out the best. But Mark had always felt like Susan was his confidant – they could talk about anything and everything, laugh at each other's jokes, finish each other's thoughts. So was his mind playing tricks on him – was it simply that he didn't want his best friend to leave, had that fooled him into thinking there was something more?

> > > 

"...and it just isn't fun, period. Everybody's cranky, on edge, we're all worried we'll tick him off, I've been in the ER since he was a third-year and he's never been this much of a poison to be around."

Carol had been on the phone for nearly an hour and a half. She had painted for Susan the complete, uncompromising, totally brutal picture of what had gone on in her absence.

In Phoenix, Susan was convinced that the real Mark must've been abducted by aliens. But the whole thing made bittersweet sense to her. She had killed their frienship, and he was mad at her but taking it out on them. They had to be it. She suspected during her long train ride that his first instinct would be to seek out a rebound, but Chuni? _C'mon Mark, you can do better_, she thought. _You could have had him, though,_ her other half reminded her. She wanted so badly to come home, but somehow it just didn't seem possible, especially now that Carol had given her the 411. If that was how he behaved around people with no stake in the situation, how would he respond to seeing her, the person who'd caused all the pain in the first place?

"Things just aren't the same Carol...for anybody involved, I guess."

Carol saw a chance to impart some knowledge she'd discarded during their coffee break on her last day at County.

"He loves you – you do know that, right?"

Susan, still sitting in a dark apartment in Phoneix, choked back a tear while seeming to whisper, "Yes."

Carol and Susan were best friends, maybe not on the level of Mark & Doug, but they could tell when it was time to say something to each other and when to back off. Carol could tell there was a conversation they needed to have, one woman to another.

"And you love him." She said it flatly, absolutely certain that she was right. Susan was finding it harder to choke back the tears but managed to stumble out her reply.

"I've been in love with him for a long time Carol - I was just so sure that it would be better this way, if he didn't feel how I felt, if I could be with people I love...I never wanted to hurt him."

Carol went for the brass ring, thinking maybe she could solve all the world's problems and go to medical school at the same time. Early that day she'd felt totally powerless, stripped of her ability to help people. But now she was giving help to a great friend who really needed it.

"Come back. You still have that chance."

Susan wasn't so certain. She was sure now of her feelings, but that hadn't been enough to make her stay (for some Godforsaken reason), so why would Mark believe it was enough to make her come back?

> > > 

The ending was upon them, and Mark could barely conceal how badly he was longing for Susan. He was totally immersed now, committed to throwing his empty popcorn bucket at the screen if Jerry Maguire didn't get his wife back. And then came the speech:

            _Tonight, our little "project", our company, had a very big night. A very, very big night. But it wasn't complete. It wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete. Because I couldn't share it with you. I couldn't hear your voice. Or laugh about it with you...I love you. You **complete**__ me._

He was crying now, and was very aware of it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried at a movie. Maybe _Bambi_, but that was different – he was only six and the idea of that deer losing his mother had been very traumatic. But now through the tears he was resolving the issue in his heart – **that's** how you know. The job at County, Chicago itself, pretty much everybody else except Rachel, he could do without. He felt satisfied without all those things. But not Susan. In the two months Susan had been gone, he'd never felt so adrift and incomplete in his entire life.

The answer was staring him in the face. Bob Dylan was singing over the ending of the film, and another punch flush to his head flew at him, this one from Maguire's spiritual guru Dicky Fox:

            _I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I've failed as much as I've succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you my kind of success_.

That was it. He had to go out to Phoenix and sort this out for good. Was Susan his soulmate, that one perfect person who could be his wife and his friend and his lover? He didn't know the answers to all of those questions. But he wanted her to be all of those things so incredibly that sitting still wasn't an option. He had to find out. That was when he turned and noticed Doug was gone.

> > > 

Wandering outside, having talked with Carol forever but resolving very little, still convinced she had burned her bridges, Susan Lewis looked up at the stars. They were brilliant in the Arizona desert, 100 times clearer than any night that might grace the Chicago skyline. She wondered what Greene was doing, whether he was working or sleeping or drinking, wondering if that anger he surely must have held against her might ever rescind. She stood by the lamppost on a night in suburban Phoenix, gazing out into space, thinking maybe the stars might finally tell her what to do. And her every human thought was spent on what Mark Greene was doing.

> > > 

He was riding the train back into the city was what he was doing. He had a shift at 8 AM, so he'd told Doug, who had gone outside to leave Mark alone with his thoughts, that he was gonna catch a few hours sleep at the hospital. It was after midnight, the train bustling down into the sub-level tracks at Union Station. Bounding off the train and up the steps, he stopped when he reached the deserted plaza. Left, towards the hospital, or right towards the Blue Line? He could feel his life coming to a fork in the road. He turned right and raced the 11 blocks to the station on Dearborn. He was heading north, to the furthest destination the El traveled to – O'Hare International Airport.

**To be continued**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE.

_Is this damn plane ever going to get to Phoenix?_

That was the thought occupying Mark's mind. It had seemed like forever waiting for it, in the chilly pre-dawn hours at O'Hare, then it had seemed like eternity on the runway, and now it seemed like time stood still in the air. The flight had departed Chicago at 5:50, so it was set to land in Phoenix just after 8:00 Phoenix time.

His nerves were running wild inside. He felt like Caesar crossing the Rubicon, Washington over the Delaware, and Odysseus traversing the Styx, all wrapped in one. He was leaving safety and comfort behind for the good of an unknown: Susan Lewis, his best friend, a woman he'd come to be in love with. He was absolutely certain of it now, and he had to know once and for all whether she felt the same.

That was one thing consistently gnawing at him about their last meeting: she had told him she loved him, but that didn't necessarily mean she felt for him as he did for her. But he had asked her to simply tell him that she didn't feel the same, and she hadn't. For whatever reason, she couldn't plainly reject him. Honestly, he would've felt OK after that, knowing he'd done all he could and that she simply needed something else. But she'd left the issue unsettled.

He fidgeted in his seat. He downed a couple of cocktails and zoned out NBC InFlight. His mind drifted towards how he could possibly transform thought to action once he was on the ground, if he ever got there. _One chance_, he reminded himself. _Don't blow it_.

> > > 

All he had to go on was the forwarding address she'd left at County, and all it did was point him to Good Samaritan Community Hospital in Scottsdale. He flagged a taxi and started rehearsing for what seemed like the 10,000th time what he was going to say.

Gliding through the doors, what struck him at first was how fresh the place was: it looked more like a fancy hotel than a hospital, with rich upholstery in the waiting room and fine marble countertops. His thoughts wandered back to Dr. Harris' office, why he'd decided not to trade up into private medicine – it didn't feel like real medicine. He wondered if Susan was really happy in a place like this.

One of the desk clerks seemed to notice a man with only a half-head of hair, looking a bit frazzled like he hadn't slept in ages, standing near the entrance.

"Can I help you?" she called out to him. Greene thought for the briefest of moments it had been Susan, but it was some frumpy clerk in her 60s from the desk. He asked for the ER, and she directed him to the lower floor of the hospital.

Nervously, he moved towards the admit desk in the ER. Greene felt like he was at some upscale medical clinic rather than an emergency ward – the sun was shining brilliantly trough the windows and a large mural decorated one wall. He felt intimidated, but maybe it was his reason for being there which nauseated him more than the place itself. In any case, he moved towards the admit desk where a desk clerk was reading a copy of "Spider-Man".

"Is Susan Lewis working today?" It seemed like he had to speak in slow motion, each word out of his mouth requiring it's own separate annunciation. He didn't want anything he said sounding ambiguous, not this day.

He turned at what sounded like a porcelain vase smashing into the floor.

> > > 

Susan Lewis woke up in Exam Ten at the end of the long exam hallway of Good Samaritan Community Hospital. Glancing over at her watch, she saw it was 9:28. _I've been asleep for nearly five hours. Five hours, and not a single case comes in._ Already she found life in a private hospital excruciatingly slow. Her cases were mainly snake bites and sun poisoning, with an elderly heart attack victim or a slow-moving MVA thrown in. She thought back to her early residency days, when her and Doug and Mark would relax on the roof at County with a couple of beers, imagining what it would be like to be at Northwestern, or a UC hospital, or maybe Loyola. They would joke about how easy it seemed to them, how better armed they were by being in a casualty collection point of a major city. Sometimes Benton would join them, but never to drink and to always trade barbs with the "pill pushers".

But she always knew Benton was joking, that he held all the ER docs in high esteem. But this hospital, her co-workers out here, _this_ was a place for pill-pushers. It seemed like she'd written more prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotics in two months at Good Sam then in four years at County. The biggest enemy here was boredom.

She trudged off the gurney and walked across the hall to the Doctor's Lounge, pouring herself a cup of fresh coffee. This had to be the highlight of the new job – freshly brewed coffee, every day. But beyond that, it was a barren wasteland, and not just because they were in the desert. The hospital was a new operation, with little history and its private status always lent itself to interesting surgical research but not many challenging emergency cases – those were few and far between and often got diverted into the downtown districts. And the fellow doctors were...different.

_Who am I kidding? _She silently interrogated herself as she began walking towards admitting. There was nobody here who had really welcomed her, in fact it seemed like some of them viewed her suspiciously, as if she had run away from something to join their upstart community program. And there was nobody who she could talk to at the end of the day, nobody who was simply willing to offer her their company, nobody...nobody like Mark Greene.

As she neared the admit desk, her steps slowed as she pulled in a long sip of coffee and thought about the best friendship she'd ever thrown away. Silently she hated herself for walking away from him that day at the train station, and if Carol could be trusted he hated her for doing it now too. The suddenness of it all had shocked her, she literally couldn't believe he was actually there, saying those words and begging her to stay.

She turned the corner and was shocked again.

> > > 

The coffee mug slid out of her hands and dropped to the floor, smashing into several porcelain pieces and creating a brown pool of liquid that ran in several directions. Mark looked down at the broken cup, and then up, and made eye contact with Susan. They both stood their, eyes wide and mouths open, words an impossibility, each convinced that the other surely was just a mirage of their overacting brains, another trick of the desert sun.

"Su---Susan?" Mark finally sussed out her name, with nowhere near the clarity of their last meeting.

Hearing him speak helped convince her she wasn't hallucinating.

"Mark, are yo---it's...wow, I can't believe you're here." It was the first truthful thing she'd said to him in a long time.

A few more moments lingered in the air, with all the unfulfilled promise and secret ambitions the two of them had about each other, and then reality came crashing in – in the form of a gurney and two paramedics.

"Clear the way here!" as they wheeled a patient practically thorough Susan, who dashed out of the way at the last second. As a result, she was now only a step away from Mark, who seemed to be awakened to the fact that they were in fact in a hospital.

"That looked like a pretty brutal compound fracture to the tib-fib." He figured turning on his Doctor Mode was the only way he'd sound normal.

Susan was stunned and happy and confused and a thousand other things, but he somehow had roped her back into the reality of her job and was hinting that she should get back to doing it. Here, with what must have been equally rampaging emotions, he was immediately understanding what she needed to do, before even she understood it.

"Please, please don't go anywhere," she said, backing up to the second exam room where the fracture had been taken.

"I'll be right here," he said, praying he wouldn't come in contact with anything out of fear that it would wake him up from a dream, as she disappeared around the corner.

The fracture had turned out to be the result of a nasty rollerblading incident, but it was nothing the orthopedics couldn't fix. Susan held with the man to make sure he was on morphine and waited until the specialist arrived. As soon as the bone-crusher made his appearance, she headed for the hallway, and for what seemed like the first time since she woke up, she took a breath.

He was still standing by the admit desk, having barely moved. She walked up and said the only words appropriate for the situation, "Hi." He turned and smiled and it was almost as if nothing had changed. "Hi...is there somewhere we can go talk?" And then it slammed back in her face that _everything _had changed.

> > > 

_Just be cool_, Mark was reminding himself, though it felt like his heart was beating at a pace too insane for any monitor. She had led him to the lounge at Good Sam and he sat down at a very nice mahogany table, far fancier than anything back at home.

"You want some coffee? It's fresh." _She's even got fresh coffee_, he noted. _This must_ _be a dream_. "That sounds fantastic", Mark replied.

He could see her hand trembling ever so slightly as she poured the cups, and wondered if maybe his appearance out of nowhere was making her uncomfortable. Then he actually thought and the answer came back that of course it was. _How was she supposed to react_? He silently reprimanded himself for expecting that she'd jump for joy at the sight of him as the coffee was brought over.

"So" he grappled for a conversation starter, "how's it been going so far?" He instantly wondered what exactly he meant by "it".

She pursed her lips as she finished a sip of coffee and looked at him. "Things have been alright. This place isn't exactly a trade up from County, but it has its perks." At exactly the same time, Mark was taking his first sip of coffee and his face brightened.

"You're gonna have to send us a couple of packets of whatever this is – damn!" He tried not to sound corny, but did anyway. Susan giggled but the moment of ease again passed quickly as they were both very aware of the direction of their conversation.

"I guess you probably want to know why I'm here." Mark's voice straightened out, and he was preparing himself mentally for what would either be euphoria or despondency.

> > > 

_I know why you're here_, Susan told herself. He wanted her to explain something she had no explanation for. He wanted to know why she could say that to him and then exit his life forever. Her mind was scrambling now, grasping at straws for what could pass a real reason why she'd hurt him so much. He opened his mouth to address her, as her mind continued its scrambling patterns:

"I just - Susan, I...I keep thinking about the last time we spoke and I don't want our friendship to end that way. I don't think you do either." _Of course not_.

"...I know I really put you on the spot like that and I wanted to say I'm sorry. I was so afraid of losing you, losing our...I don't even know what to call it." _"Us"...that's what it is now. There's an "us", Mark_.

"After I did that, I wouldn't blame you for not keeping touch. You had perfect reasons for coming out here and I got selfish right at the end and tried to guilt you into staying. I wasn't being fair_." Don't say that Mark; you were the only one of us actually thinking_.

"But in two months...God, Susan, in the past two months I have never been so lonely. I don't know what that means, what it should mean, but I miss you. I miss us being able to go to Doc's after work, or hang out and drink a few margaritas. I miss my best friend." _I miss mine too_.

"I just wan...no,"_ He's fumbling with his words now. C'mon Mark, ask me._ "I...there's something else I needed to say to you, I know it might throw you for a loop." _We already did the "Casablanca"-style train departure, so how bad can it be?_

"I'm in love with you, Susan. I'm absolutely certain of it. I just – I close my eyes and I imagine what we can be together and I like what I see." _So do I...God, don't break down in front of him, not now. Just stay strong. Ask me the question, Mark_. _Just ask me if I'm in love with you and I'll say it._

"That's it. That's..last time we spoke we both left things unsaid. I just -- I wanted you to know that, know how I feel. And to...to find out if you felt the same.

And then dead silence hung in the air, and for some reason Susan could hear the sound of train whistle blowing and a conductor saying, "Ma'am, we're leaving". _Forget being asked!! Say something right now or you'll get pulled away from him forever! _

> > > 

She was looking down at her coffee, not even trying to make eye-contact, and Mark felt his heart crumble all over again. _There's your answer_, he thought bitterly. She could tell she was on the verge of crying, but so was he. There was something wrong about asking her to do this, asking her to flat out reject him. They were, or at least had been, best friends, so to ask a friend to hurt another...something about it didn't feel right. Mentally, Mark considered the dots connected and pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I...I guess I'll be seeing you. Call us, if you ever visit." He tried so hard to sound sincere, but he was sure it came across as angry and it killed him inside that he had done this to her. Now he felt like no idea of his had ever been so selfish and stupid. He turned, certain now that he had seen her for the last time, when he heard a voice choking through tears

"I'm in love with you, Mark...Pl—" she couldn't seem to work her way to the end of a sentence, "Please don't walk away from me."

Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but she was standing and she'd said it and now it froze him in his tracks. As if the world stood still, he turned to see her, looking radiant despite the crying, and he moved towards her again, his heart jumping into his throat and his mind full of fireworks.

He bent down and gave her a gentle kiss, which very quickly developed into something more as she pulled him in tightly. Nothing in the world mattered now, except for the two of them and the fact that for the first time in a long time, no words were necessary.

It seemed to last an eternity, one of those really smooth, long kisses that Crash Davis said would last for three days. Mark's eyes were closed, and so were Susan's, and being that close to each other was enough for the moment.

> > > 

When Mark's eyes opened, however, there was a light shining in his face...

...Susan fluttered her eyes open into a dull light...

...and he felt something tough at the base of his neck...

...and Susan seemed to sink back into something soft...

...Mark leaned his neck up and oriented himself – he was on the couch in the lounge at County...

....Susan rolled over to see that she was on a gurney in the pale darkness of Exam Ten...

...and though the two of them couldn't know it, being separated by almost 2000 miles, the same thought popped into their heads: _FUCK!_

It was all a dream.

**C'mon, it wouldn't be good if there weren't a twist. Besides, this way you know that there'll be more! **


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Mark propped himself up on the couch, trying to orient himself back into the real world after waking up. _Damn it,_ he cursed once more, _why did I have to wake up_? For a brief moment, he thought maybe the entire thing had been a dream, that he'd walk out and Susan would still be in the ER, having never gone to Phoenix, and he'd been giving his wake-up call to just come out and say something he'd been holding in for far too long.

He groggily pushed open the door towards admitting and sighed when, of course, that wasn't the case. He'd done exactly what he'd told Doug he was going to do, return to the hospital and crash before his next shift. Why did he have to be so lousy when it came to making personal decisions? The focus, the energy, the dedication he gave to his job, why could he never make time to use them in other aspects of life?

He stood there, staring listlessly at the board, now coming to realize not only had that day he & Doug went to the movies passed, but several others. It all came back to him – Carol had gotten involved in a convenience store robbery, Benton & Carter were at odds over what had happened to Gant, he'd done that disastrous triple-dating scheme and seen it blow up in his face. Time had gone by, but it certainly wasn't healing old wounds.

_No more_. He said it silently, to himself, to convince him that life in the ER could and would go on if he left. _I have to do it for real_. _I have to._ Each time he said it, the more sense it made. He didn't want it to be some cruel fantasy of his about "what could have been". He was going.

Maggie Doyle saw him from Curtain One and quickened her pace. Then she noticed he was putting on his coat and talking to Jerry and she broke into a quick run.

"Tell Kerry I'm taking some personal days", she heard as she came up to him.

"Dr. Greene, I need you to see this patient." She tried to impress upon him the importance.

"Sorry, Maggie, I have to do something."

Doyle tried again, "Girl with Down's Syndrome, she needs to be examined by cardiology."

Mark futzed, his commitment to take action already being tested. "Is she on a transplant list?" If she weren't it seemed like he could turf it onto Weaver or another attending.

"Yes", and now Mark was cornered. _C'mon, take a stand for once_. "I...I can't, just wait on it unti—"

Doyle looked him dead in the eyes: "Dr. Greene, please?" Mark could tell that for whatever reason the case was both important, and important to Doyle. He asked for the chart and headed with her back down the hallway. _The story of my life,_ he recalled with disdain.

> > > 

He wandered back into the lounge early the next morning, fatigued mentally and physically. The situation involving Louise – that had been the girl's name – had developed into something complex and ultimately heartbreaking. At first his biggest concern was that he was going to have to go talk to Nina Pomerantz, but once he clarified in his mind why he was going to see her, nothing about it seemed awkward to him. But no matter how hard he'd tried, what he'd said, he couldn't convince Louise's mother that he was doing the right thing. And when he heard her explain why, it didn't sound all that wrong to him. At some point, it was better for everybody involved to let go.

And that line of thought brought him back to Susan. 24 hours earlier, he'd been determined to chase after her once more, only to get sucked back into his job. And that was who he was. He couldn't change it, it was stupid to even try. His life was his work. Susan deserved better than some workaholic with a knack for screwing up every relationship he'd ever been in. Even that made Mark laugh bitterly, cause he'd really only had _one_ relationship, with Jennifer.

He thought about something Susan had said once, a few years ago – Feb. 5, '95. It was strange that he could so easily recall the exact date. _Had that been the title of a TV show or something too? _He had been trying to get her advice about a woman with end-stage cancer, and she'd curtly given her opinion and then went back to resenting him over what had gone on with Kayson & Morganstern. He'd tried to tell her it was a professional duty, nothing personal against her, and she had sniped, "We're not married, we work together, professional _is_ personal."

Mark dwelled on that for a moment, thinking about what it could mean, and adding it up with everything else that had gone on between them. He arrived at the conclusion that in Susan's eyes he was synonymous with work. That made too much sense – it was the only thing he knew how to do right, and consequently he did it full blast without pause and without regret. _But she needs something else_, he reasoned. He then remembered how she used to chide him for being so myopic, unable to see how there were in fact things beyond the job. _She doesn't want somebody like me_, he ultimately conceded.

So there he sat, miserable once again, all that resolve he had built up torn down, resigned to letting go of whatever possibly might have been.

Then Conni stuck her head in the door: "I need you in Exam One, Mark."

He smirked for a second, noting maybe for the first time how automatic a request it seemed, and how everybody asked for him because it seemed like he didn't know how to say no, or how to tell them to find somebody else. And it frightened him, just a little, to know that it was really the only thing he had, the only thing he seemed to need. Hadn't he just told himself he needed more? The whole thing had become _Godfather_-esque: every time he thought he was out, the job pulled him back in.

He swung his stethoscope over his head, and left the lounge.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Oh boy...here we go. Clearly, I got kicked off a couple Christmas card lists over Chapter Five & Six. So I figured back to the lab in a hurry to beat back the angry mob. Here we go with the next major element of the story

> > > 

**So tight are the corners of your lips,**

**Part them, and feel my fingertips,**

**Chase the moment for forever,**

**Defense is paper thin, just, one touch,**

**And I'll be in too, deep now, to ever swim**

**Against the current**

> > > 

Six months had gone by. Six months full of angst and agony and half-complete truths and blatant lies. Six months so bizarre that Susan Lewis couldn't describe them.

Arizona had turned out like Hawaii – it was a place she would love to visit, but living there? As much as she enjoyed being Susie's aunt, she had tricked herself into thinking it would be enough. She longed to be the central figure in her life, and Chloe had proved quite capable at taking Susan's place in that regard. Even Chloe "replacing" her was a bit of a stretch, since Susie was too young to know what she had done for her, how much she loved her, though the little girl was very affectionate toward her "Auntie Suzie". Susan recalled how when Chloe first came back, she had questioned point blank, "Do you think you can be a good mother to this little girl?" Her older sister's sober reply had been delicate and truthful: "More than anything, that's what I want to be." But Susan wanted it too, and only one of them could have it.

In the meantime, Little Susie was growing up and Susan was trying to catch as much of it as possible. The girl had also taking up that time-honored childhood tradition of watching Disney movies eight times a day. Her favorite had become _Mary Poppins_, which she begged Auntie Suzie to watch with her every time she came over.

It was appropriate to Susan's condition, because there was always that scene at the end when Mary Poppins departs, and that smart-aleck on her umbrella scoffs, "They think more of their mother and father than they do of you!" And Julie Andrews' somber reply: "That's as it should be." Susan always had to catch herself when she heard it, because it applied very much to her. Six months in Phoenix hadn't done much, except allow her to maybe come to terms with the fact that she would have to be comfortable with being the aunt, not the mom. And Little Suzie's greatest joys and hugs and kisses would be for Chloe, and that was how it was supposed to be.

All of those thoughts came to her as she rode the bus to Good Samaritan Community Hospital for a meeting with Ray Gerhard, the head of the ER, on her day off. She was trying to guess what it was regarding but her mind drifted elsewhere, and she fought to return to the issue in front of her. Working at Good Sam proved frustratingly easy, nothing like what had gone on at County. _But I didn't come here for the medicine_, she argued. She hadn't committed any major errors and only lost a handful of patients, all to natural or unpredictable causes, so it couldn't have been a review session. She actually got along with the attendings, though some of the residents didn't seem to fully trust her. And then she remembered it was mid-May, her residency would be complete in less than a month, she had asked about possibly joining the staff at Good Sam. The meeting had to involve that, somehow, she concluded.

> > > 

"Come on in, Susan."

She rose from her seat, extinguishing a cigarette she had lit to calm herself down. _Why am I nervous? I shouldn't be nervous._ She sat in the spacious office, across the desk of the portly Dr. Gerhard. He had a large belly but a thin face, wire-framed glasses hanging from his nose and a rapidly vanishing amount of hair. He was like a cross between Bob Hoskins and Mark Greene.

_Shit! Don't think about Mark, not now! Focus...poise...good._

She was trying to coach the anxiety out of her and Gerhard could tell. "You want something to drink?" It was at that point Susan fully recognized where she was and her nerves calmed down. Gerhard sat at the edge of the table.

"Susan, I just want to tell you first that it's been a wonder having you in our department. I think you know you're a bit overqualified for our outfit, coming from your urban background, but you've been tremendous." _Hey, he likes me! _Susan thought.

"Still, I think you know you're status here in the short term is unique. Hospitals, particularly private hospitals, don't tend to accept residency transfers in the last half of the final year. I okayed it mainly because David Morganstern told me I was getting the best." _Morganstern -- How could Mark have thought I was dating Morganstern? What was he---stop! Listen!_

"We're a small, privately held suburban hospital. We're trying to build an identity here, so I need to staff a department full of faces that have helped us get this far. Basically, I want to give you a heads up on what'll happen when your residency ends next month." _This doesn't sound like it'll end good_.

"You're way ahead of my other fourth-years, I have no problem telling you that privately. But I only have two openings for attending status and now seven residents up for them." _I'm getting cut loose_.

"So you won't be able to offer me a job," Susan finished for him. Gerhard blinked, then cleared his throat:

"Yeah. The people in our program now, some have been here since their third year of medical school. They've helped get this hospital off the ground. Granting one of them attending status wouldn't mean anything if I gave it to you as well. I have to reward the people who've stayed loyal to the program." _Loyalty. I'm not even sure I know what that means anymore_.

> > > 

She walked out of the office, and she should have been hurt but she wasn't. This was the choice she'd made. She knew as far as medicine goes she would be trading down, but work was always a secondary consideration. Having an important career didn't matter, having an important life mattered. That's why she'd come to Phoenix, to enjoy her role in Little Susie's life, regardless of its scale, and maybe to find something else along the way.

_But loving Little Suzie doesn't pay the bills_, she thought. _And now people think I'm disloyal. I'm sure that's what Mark thinks..._

_GOD!!_ She mentally screamed. Why couldn't she get Mark off her mind? Just move past it and accept that she had that one shining moment with him, only to tarnish it forever by getting on that train? The answer to that was obvious: she couldn't do it because she didn't want to.  Every day she woke up and thought about quitting and racing back home, begging for his forgiveness, for a second chance. _But you don't get second chances_, she told herself, sighing as she got on the bus.

Being her day off, she went to visit Chloe and Little Suzie. As she walked from the bus stop to the little townhouse Chloe and Joe had bought, a thought which should have occurred to her a long time ago popped into her head: _Chloe got a second chance. _Her meaner half then immediately said, _And a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a –_ She cut herself off before going further. Chloe had gotten another shot, so why couldn't her sister? She rang the doorbell, and the bubbly, effervescent Super-Mom that Chloe had become opened it with a smile. "Hey Suz!!" Susan forced a return smile and entered.

> > > 

Little Suzie was in the middle of an afternoon nap, a very important window of rest for the mother of a two year-old, Chloe had smirked while offering up coffee.

"So what was the meeting about?" Chloe was relishing her new role as the older sister who knew all. Susan stirred her coffee absent-mindedly.

"They can't keep me on after June," she said, absent any emotion. Chloe raised her eyebrows and snickered, "Their loss." That made Susan chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. Now what?"

Chloe thought for a moment and then decided it was time to acknowledge the two-ton elephant that had been in every room her little sister had walked into during her time in Arizona. "Have you talked to him since you left?"

Susan was stunned. She'd never once mentioned Mark to Chloe during her time in Arizona, never talked about what happened at Union Station. Not once. Her big sister instincts were good.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, praying to derail the conversation. Chloe wouldn't have it.

"Something happened before you left, with you and Mark Greene, right?" Susan could tell she either had a horrible poker face, or Chloe was just that good, and silently nodded.

"And???" Chloe pressed.

"And nothing. He doesn't want to see me, I...things got too complicated. He asked me to stay and I walked out on him." Susan fought through it, thinking maybe if she didn't say it she could close her eyes and reopen them to find it wasn't true. Chloe's mouth hung open.

"You did what?"

"I was scared!" Susan immediately shot back, emotions she had held inside bubbling over with amazing speed. "It was – he showed up literally at the last minute. I was.."

"You were scared." Chloe finished the thought, but immediately started one of her own. "Why'd you come out here Susan? You told me it was because you wanted to stay close to family, what was it you said, 'this is where I belong'?" Susan silently nodded.

"This isn't where you belong. It's where you feel comfortable." Susan sat in stunned silence, not willing to fight because she knew who would win. This was an argument she'd had with herself a thousand times, and the outcome was always the same.

"What was I supposed to do, Chloe? I was so sure it was going to be alright, and then he threw it all at me in one swoop and I didn't know what to do! I had no answer for it!" Susan was trying to convince herself more than she was Chloe, knowing full well how empty it all sounded.

Chloe stared at her younger sister, worn out by years of stressing over her, their deadbeat parents, and privately being dumbfounded on how she could do that and not tell anybody about it. Finally she decided to play hardball: "Do you love him?"

Susan's mouth opened but no words came. It was all the emotion and movement Chloe needed to settle the issue. "Yes, you do. If you didn't. we wouldn't be having this conversation because it wouldn't be bothering you six months after the fact."

Susan, who raised up her arms to symbolize frustration, slowly brought them to rest across her shoulders. It was the oddest moment of role reversal she'd ever been through: she was the one adrift at sea, all the worry of the world crashing down on her, and _Chloe_ was the steady voice attempt to steer her ashore.

"Look," Chloe began anew, "God knows I screwed up enough in my time. But I got a wonderful gift, two in fact, from heaven: Suzie and Joe. I love them with everything I have, and wherever they are, _that's_ where I belong. And you deserve to have that Suz. And you shouldn't give it up out of fear. Do you love him, I mean, do you really love him?"

Susan was fighting back tears now, something she'd done often on lonely hot Phoenix nights, and muttered, "Yes."

"Then go find him and tell him."  Chloe said it sternly, like a parent commanding a child to do the right thing regardless of how hard it must've seemed. The irony involved killed Susan, but suddenly things crystallized for her: Chloe was right. There was a second chance out there if Susan wanted it. It was a chance, nothing more. But didn't she deserve that much, even if it turned out to be nothing more?

She steadied herself in her chair and looked at Chloe, looked for a long moment searching for any shred of doubt or misunderstanding. She found none, and then found the courage to speak: "I have to go now."

"Do you see me stopping you?" Chloe said, curling a smile.

And with that, Susan reached for the phone. "Yeah, I need your first flight to Chicago."

> > > 

She chose to be nervous about other things and that paranoia she'd had about flying never appeared. The plane landed at Midway just after 8:30 PM Chicago time. Where to go first? The hospital? No, that might raise other eyebrows, and she wasn't intent on explaining anything to anybody except Mark. Her apartment? Well, it was _his_ apartment now. And then she reached into her purse, into one of the old side pockets...and out came her spare key. Phyllis never asked for it back, and Susan hadn't even realized she'd had it until after she was in Phoenix. Was it possible that he hadn't changed the locks? She flagged a taxi.

> > > 

Heading up the old elevator created a spooky feeling of deja vu. She reached the third floor and headed down around the corner to the end of the hall. There it was, her old place. She wasn't sure what was waiting on the other side. Would he be angry? Happy? Confused? All of the above? She knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again.

Nothing.

The key was still on her, practically searing a hole in her pocket. She slowly reached in and pulled it out. _There's no way the locks are the same_, she told herself. Ever so gently, she slid the brass key in. It fit, turned, and clicked, and the door swung slightly open.

She questioned if this was OK, because of how they'd last seen each other. This would be an especially volatile reunion anyway, without her technically committing B&E. She pushed the door open and surveyed the scene.

Mark was as bad at keeping the place clean as she had been – takeout cartons were still on the table, clothes were strewn on the floor, books were scattered all over. And then – what was that? Barking. _Barking?_

And from the bedroom came a small dog, white & brown, clearly some form of mixed-breed mutt. _Mark has a dog? _She had to be either in the wrong apartment, or Mark had backed out of the lease after what had happened. She leaned down to appease the anxious canine, who was alert to a stranger on the premises.

"Hey, hey, it's OK," she reached around for the mutt's ID tag: "Nick" And on the next line, reserved for the owner: "Mark Greene". She couldn't help but laugh at this. Mark did _not_ seem like a dog person. Yet here was the certified proof. But the barking was still present.

"You must be hungry, it seems like dinnertime", Susan tried to think outloud as a problem solver. She moved to the kitchen, "Let's see if Mark's got any food in here" She rummaged in the cupboards, all the places she had used to store the cat food, and came across a stack of canned Purina. Looking straight down, she saw a can opener that didn't look washed but at least looked useable. She squeezed the can open.

"Sorry," she said to the dog, who had sensed that she would bring his dinner and was now obediently following her heel, "I'm more of a cat person...uh!" A final twick had gotten the lid open. She placed it at the feet of Nick, who promptly dug in. Susan's eyes drifted towards the bedroom. _No, that's offlimits. You can't rummage in his private space_. But she was already in his apartment, so what was a few more feet? She inched slowly toward the dimly lit room.

Scanning around she noticed how sparse it was. She looked over the nightstand to see the familiar staples: hospital paperwork, a radio, a few pictures of him and Rachel. But something else caught her eye: a photo of the two of them, that night at the Pier in the photo booth. She smiled longingly at seeing it, how happy the two of them looked – it was as if that moment could be frozen in time, and showed no sign of the tragedy that would follow.

Her eyes drifted down again to an empty medicine bottle. _Mark's not on meds_, she thought as she instinctively grabbed it. It was Percodan, and a little Post-It was attached to it, in Mark's handwriting: "See Doug". A million thoughts were beginning to invade her head: _What was Mark doing with Percodan? And why was Doug prescribing it_?

Finally she noticed stuck to the mirror another note, but it looked frayed and tattered, like it had been written weeks ago. This one was also personal in nature: "Call Nina". _Nina_? That didn't seem good. _Maybe she's his new woman. Maybe she lives here now – what if the dog is hers?_ She dropped the Percodan bottle and stepped backwards out of the room. All of a sudden it seemed like a horrible idea for her to be there.

Nick had plowed through his food but Susan knew that animals always enjoy downing food with water. She looked around in the kitchen for a bowl, finally settling on one which still had some Frosted Flakes on the side.

She sat down Indian style, in her old kitchen, a place which had always felt like home but suddenly felt cold and empty, watching the dog drink. Shyly, for no reason at all, she began talking to him, as if he were Mark. "So...how have you been?" The dog kept licking up water. "How's Rachel?" Susan practiced. She started laughing and gently petted Nick, who seemed to at least be taking a liking to her, even it required no effort. This was why she liked cats – dogs were like men, all you had to do was fill their stomach and they were content.

Her laughing was interrupted by a sound from outside the hall.

"What the hell?!?" She knew that voice. The door, which hadn't been closed all the way, was practically kicked open.

And Susan Lewis & Mark Greene came face to face with each other.

> > > 

**Dum Dum Dum!!! To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Trying..trying...thanks to all people who have reviewed and written other mark/susan fics, for both encouragement and inspiration - hope I'm not letting you down

> > > 

He'd done some crazy, stupid, strange, dumb, low things in his life. But this was a new "high" low.

Mark was sprinting down the street, past the bridge where seconds earlier he'd chucked the gun into the river. What could he have possibly been thinking? What was that gun going to accomplish? It only had the potential for more pain and anguish, not the security he craved.

He kept running, panting, furiously moving in the night in attempt to outdistance his fears. Since that day in the men's room, where he'd been innocently washing his face and suddenly had his whole life rammed into a wall, it was as if a terrible menace was constantly behind him, daring him to _try_ and escape, and Mark was petrified as a result.

Finally, out of exhaustion, he slowed to a walk, and finally to a standstill next to a bench about four blocks from his apartment. His clothes were dripping from the sweat he'd built up, his heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, and it took all the functioning power he had just to sit down.

He sat and tried to reassume control. Of all the things which had transpired because of the attack, this was what scared and angered him the most. He had no control – over anything. The authority, the motivation, the confidence he used to have on a situation, was shattered beyond repair. His mind began to wonder how long he had actually been without control over things – and as he put the pieces together, he was reminded: Jennifer. Rachel. Sam Gasner. Jodi O'Brien. Raul. Susan. Louise. Kenny Law. Even today, a perfectly healthy man suffers a heart attack, and he'd had nothing but good fortune to be there when it happened. He had no control. And now in the most frightening moment of them all, he'd pulled a gun on another person and lost control of himself.

He had a good long thought, recalling an old saying where we ask for serenity to accept the things we cannot change, and picked himself up off the bench. After a night like tonight, all he wanted to do was go home.

He took the stairs up to his apartment, a habit he'd developed to avoid unfamiliar people in close quarters. But with the cast hampering him, opening the door had proved troublesome. Mark fiddled to get the handle down and as a result dropped his pack, spilling books and charts in the stairwell.

He lost it again, all the frustration against the seemingly random destruction targeted at him coming out: "This goddamn cast!!!" He kicked the wall but finally used the free hand to enter his floor's hallway, deciding he could come back for the charts.

He rounded a corner and his heart stopped. _My door is open_. He had given nobody else a key, a locksmith was coming in two days to change the locks. _Is the bastard back for another round?!?_ He screamed out: "What the hell?!?" and ran towards his apartment, kicking open the door with brute force.

Appearing in the doorway, he was absolutely floored by what he saw.

> > > 

Susan's first, but completely unnatural instinct was to recoil in horror. She cupped her hand to her mouth to mute a coming scream. _Mark?_ It couldn't be. His face was bruised, his lips swollen, his arm in a sling. She kept her hand over her mouth, not a single word close to her lips.

Mark stood stunned on an even greater level. _Susan?_ It couldn't be Susan. He was having another dream, like the one he'd had after going to the movies with Doug, and countless other times. He searched for something to say.

"Wh...Susan?"

She slowly let her hands come back down, and spoke softly.

"Mark, is it --- it's me."

He took a couple steps forward, again fearing he would blink and she'd be gone. They were now on opposite sides of the couch he'd placed in the middle of the room, locked on each other.

"It can't be. What are you doing here? H---How did you get _in_?"

Susan slowly reached down into her pocket and pulled out the key, trying to say what words could never express. She muttered, "You never changed the locks."

Finally, it seemed to Mark like his heart was pumping again. He tried to think rationally what the next step should be.

"You came...you came back." It was as if he was having an out-of-body experience, the beat-up carcass doing the talking while he, the real Mark Greene, was in another corner of the room admiring her, how she was still beautiful and still there, somehow.

Susan began to sense her pulse coming back to her and glanced in Mark's direction. "I wanted to see you...to talk to you." For the first time, she was conscious of the fact that her eyes were darting from the cast to his bruises and back. And Mark could tell.

Mark looked down at the cast and then back to her. "I guess there's a lot to talk about."

> > > 

Susan sat on the couch biting her lips, trying to let a sense of normalcy come back to her. So many questions were flooding her brain at the time: "Why did he look like he'd just come home from a war?" being chief among them. Mark had gone to throw on a clean shirt and offered her some tea, the pots clanging in the background telling her how he was fighting around the cast.

After what seemed like eternity, he emerged in the main room and saw her from behind. Her hair was still perfect, she looked fantastic, he thought._ But what's she doing back_? That worry trumped all others.

"Hey", he said meekly.

She turned and for the first time managed a light smile. "Hi" grappling for the next talking point, "...so, how do you like the place?

Mark fumbled to the couch, shoving off a stack of medical journals in the seat next to her.

"I'm afraid I'm not the housekeeper you are." He was so earnest, and Susan could only laugh. That brought a smile to Mark's face, but it didn't last among all the uneasiness. Silence lingered, and then Susan worked up the courage again.

"So what happened to you – unless, I mean, if you don't want to talk-"

Mark perked up immediately. "No, no, of course not...Well, I mean, it's a bit of a shock to be seeing you...this – this thing, it's nothing. It'll be off in a couple of weeks."

"But why do you look like this? Is that why you're taking Percodan?"

And then they both stopped. Susan had unwittingly admitted to being a space invader. Mark looked at her, but he knew instantly it hadn't been something of malicious intent. "I have trouble sleeping, some nights. Look...three weeks ago, I got beat up in the restroom."

"Where – here?"

"No, at the hospital." Susan tried to mute a gasp once again. It didn't seem possible, that somebody like him would be made to endure this. It at best sounded horrifying.

"Who did it?" The questions began to come freely. Mark looked at his thumbs as he twiddled them, still afraid to let her see him like this. He had rehearsed what would happen if he ever got another chance to talk to her, but him in this condition, in this mental frame of mind, was a nightmare. "They don't know – I thought it might have been this kid who thought I let his brother die because he was black, but the police say there's no way. Best they can tell, I just happened to be in the bathroom when a thug who hates doctors was."

Susan, with no small trace of fear, reached out to touch his shoulder, to try and comfort him. He twitched ever so slightly, like he was being touched by a ghost, and Susan rubbed her hand on his shoulder to console him. "I...I'm so sorry Mark. If I had known," and Mark waved her off with his good hand.

"There's nothing you could have done" and he began to lose track of his emotions again, his eyes beginning to moisten, "nothing" and now it was as if Susan wasn't even there. "Nothing anybody could have done...God, why did this happen? It doesn't make any sense." A few tear drops began to fall, and he buried his head in his good hand.

> > > 

Susan was about to cry too. She had thought of what seemed like 500 ways in which this conversation could go, but all her dry runs had been destroyed when she saw him. It was a chilling reminder of how different things were, how much had changed. Seeing him like this was too much.

"Mark--do you want me to leave?" It seemed like it took her an awful long time to ask him.

Mark tried to compose himself and faced her again. "Well...I mean, I don't want you to get sucked into this. I...I haven't really talked about it to anyone. I -- I guess I need to. Do you want to leave?"

Susan shook her head. "I'm still your friend right?" It seemed like such an easy question, but the instant Susan said it she regretted it. Now she was really opening up old wounds while Mark was trying to cope with fresh ones. But Mark looked at her and smiled: "Of course you are." He thought of something to say next, something, anything that might break the ice. And then the solution was pretty clear, so he cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

"Wanna order a pizza?" She flashed him a smile and nodded. For that one moment, he looked at her and saw all things he'd missed for so long, the comfort and the beauty and the special bond that comes from two friends who had gone through as much as they had.

> > > 

Mark had hung up on Pizzeria Uno and Susan was again walking around the apartment, mentally noting how it seemed familiar but also seeing how it was changed.

"So where'd the dog come from?" She went for safer ground.

Mark tried to hide the redness in his face. "Oh...a patient, he made me promise to take care of him. I was gonna let Rachel have him, but Craig had already bought her puppies." The mention of Craig and the "perfect" life he was giving Jen & Rachel manifested in his voice, and Susan wasn't facing him so Mark didn't see her clench her teeth at the idea of Jennifer hurting him like that.

"How is Rachel?"

"The two of us were getting along a little better...until this happened."

Now Susan faced him and moved to the kitchen table. "I still can't believe it – just some guy, out of the blue, no reason at all?"

"Well, if it's true God never gives you more than you can handle, I'm gonna live to be very, _very_ old." He smirked as he sat down next to her. She laughed with him.

_He looks at me like that_, she thought, _and it's like a day hasn't gone by. The train station never happened. I don't deserve this_. _Any other guy would've kicked me out – he couldn't wait to welcome me back_. In the middle of it all, she couldn't realize that she was now looking dreamily at him.

"What?" he asked, again oblivious like both of them to what had always been there.

Susan was about to speak when there was a knock at the door. Mark furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth. It couldn't be the pizza already. He and Susan were on the verge of sorting things out, and now he had to go shoo away some annoyed neighbor. Only when he looked through the peephole, he saw _Doug_.

He turned to look at Susan and said awkwardly, "I'll be right back.

> > > 

Doug turned and saw the doorknob turn, but Mark opened it only wide enough so he could slip into the hall and close it again. _Is there a dead body in there_? Doug thought. After Mark's Hulk Hogan routine in the lounge that afternoon, Doug put nothing past his mild-mannered buddy.

"Can I help you?" Mark asked, trying to say _This is not a good time_ in other words.

Doug was confused, but pressed on ahead with why he was there. "I just had the most amazing experience of my life."

Mark leveled to try and say to Doug – _Are you **serious**__?_

Doug kept going, "I...I went over to Carol's, and she comes out from the car in this -- God, I can't describe it, what a stunner, and I don't know what got into me, but it just seemed so right and then—" He could tell Mark was pre-occupied with what was inside the apartment rather than him.

"What?"

Mark tried to get rid of his best friend without giving away why. "Can we have this discussion tomorrow?"

Slowly, Doug added up all the pieces, and a mischievous grin crossed his face. "You've got a woman in there, don't you --- she's not a hooker, is she?"

Mark was shocked. "NO!!"

Doug nodded. "Good. I wouldn't want you to be going down that road - you and Chuni aren't having a reunion?"

Mark tried desperately not to raise his voice, "NO!" in a forced whisper.

Doug was trying to hold his laugh in and was having no luck. "Just saying, you don't think that cast will raise some performance issues?" Mark was too dumbfounded to be outraged, so Doug finished his laugh.

"OK, so who is it? C'mon, just tell me. I told you about me and Carol."

Now Mark just went blank. "You...there's a you and Carol again?"

Doug smiled and shrugged, as if to say _Yeah, kinda sorta. _Mark smiled and tried to force pleasure in his voice, "That's great. So off you go to rekindle the one true love's flame, and I'll see you tomorrow." He began to escort Doug back down the hall, and Doug started to go along, but immediately ducked out and back towards the apartment door.

"Doug!" Mark shouted, but with his mild handicap he couldn't stop Doug Ross, P.I. from reaching the door and throwing it open with a huge smile on his face.

Then he stood in the doorway as stunned as Mark had been, and Susan turned to see Doug's jaw dropped to the floor. Mark appeared in the doorway next to him, and Doug slowly turned his head.

"Yeah, I didn't see that one coming."

> > > 

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

**Vindicated**

**I am selfish, I am wrong,**

**I am right, I swear I'm right,**

**Swear I knew it all along, and**

**I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well,**

**I am seeing in me now the things you swear you saw yourself**

> > > 

For once in his life, Doug Ross had no clue what to say.

Susan was back in Mark's apartment. _What does this mean_? He tried to make sense of it as life went on around him.

Susan draped her arm over the chair and addressed him: "Hi Doug."

"Susan...long time no see." Mark had squeezed past Doug and over into the kitchen.

"Too long," Susan said with a sigh, but she glanced in Mark's direction when she did. Doug knew now why Mark wanted to be in his apartment. Doug's confused euphoria regarding Carol would have to wait.

He'd gone to Carol's, with what intention he didn't know, and waited. She came home, and they bantered for a second before they kissed. It seemed so perfect, something the two of them had wanted to do since forever, no strings attached. Doug knew that this time things would be different, and so did Carol and to demonstrate that Doug had refused her offer to come in. It wouldn't be right for them to just hop in bed, _would it_?" Doug had thought. After wishing her a good night and fighting back the urge to go in, he steered his way over to Mark's. He needed some friendly advice.

So did Mark, judging by the situation in front of him. Just then Doug's buddy appeared in the main room.

"So, Doug just came by to talk about...y'know, stuff." Doug picked up on Mark's lead and tried to casually exit the scene. "Yeah, y'know, stuff, guy stuff." Susan rolled her eyes.

"We ordered a pizza Doug, Come on in and have a seat." Doug cleared his throat but smiled. If anybody could tell him how to handle this new thing with Carol, it would be Susan. Mark just cursed mentally, and sat down too.

> > > 

Doug immediately struck up conversation about Phoenix, Chloe & Little Suzie, hearing all the tales of desert exploitation while Mark became a bit of a sideline figure, speaking only when spoken to.

He used the time to his advantage, trying to coach himself on what to do once he finally got rid of Doug. _Did she come back to tell me she does feel the same? Did she find somebody else and wanted me to know? Is she coming back for good_? It was another iteration of something that didn't make sense, but he didn't mind so much. He wanted to know how this would end.

Doug got up to go to the bathroom, "to clear my head." And there was another knock at the door.

"The pizza, thank God." Mark dug in his pockets while Susan made for the kitchen and asked, "You got any beer?"

Mark was still fumbling for his wallet but grinned, "I thought you'd never ask. Bottom shelf in the fridge."

Mark pulled the door open and was relieved to see the familiar Pizzeria Uno box, but then he saw who was holding it.

> > > 

"Carol?"

"Hey Mark. Is this for you?" She looked flustered as well, and Mark uttered a few choice phrases in his mind because now he was gonna have to referee between Doug & her.

"Uh – yeah. Why do you have it?"

"I couldn't sleep, I needed to talk to somebody. I figured you'd be home, and I saw the pizza guy so I asked if this was yours--I paid for it, don't worry." She was beginning to wonder why Mark wasn't letting her in, or at least taking the pizza. Mark bit his lip and tried to prepare for what was going to happen next.

"That's – thanks Carol. I owe you."

Carol blushed. "We're all worried about you. Is it OK if I come in?"

Mark was still blocking the door. "Carol, I'm sure whatever Doug did was ju-" and he stopped because Carol was practically staring through him.

"Who said it was about Doug?" _He must be here_, Carol thought. She smiled, thinking that fate must be demanding that they be together that night. She heard footsteps from the kitchen and craned her neck to see over Mark's shoulder. But that's not Doug.

"Oh my God!!" She shoved the pizza in Mark's hands and blew straight past him. "Susan!"

> > > 

Susan couldn't believe how surreal this was becoming. First Doug had crashed the place, and now here came his better half. Despite that, she was happy to see her friend.

"Carol, what are you doing here?" Susan was hoping maybe she worked part-time as pizza delivery and would scoot along.

"Me? What are _you_ doing here?" Carol rushed forward and they hugged.

"Well, I came back to tie up some loose ends." Carol couldn't see it, but Susan's eyes had met Mark's and they both seemed to know what the other was thinking: _Why now?_

Carol started to speak: "Does this mean you'll be moving bac.." and she was silenced by another face. Doug had appeared in the hallway.

Carol stepped around Susan to look at him straight-on. Doug managed a faint smile: "Hey.

"Hey yourself," Carol teased.

This was becoming too much for Mark, so he grabbed one of the bottles Susan had brought to the table and flipped open the box. "Bring on the beer & pizza!" He tried to cajole some enthusiasm for anything not involving incredibly complex relationship issues.

> > > 

Susan sat there, sipping a beer and thinking. _Is it 1997 or 1993?_ The four of them worked past the awkwardness and it was as if they had gone back to simpler times. She was trying to ready herself for what was inevitable, for when she and Mark were alone again and she'd have to confront far more difficult times.

"So Susan", Carol said through a mouthful of deep dish, "does this mean you're coming back?"

Susan hadn't expected to deal with these questions, at least not from her. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest."

Doug & Mark exchanged a look and Doug quickly tossed his coat on. "C'mon Carol." He tried to pull her by the hand out the door.

"But Susan just got here, we've got catching up to do." Carol was arguing but still following Doug. "Where are we going?" Carol asked as Doug opened the door for his grand exit.

"Uh...we're going for an elevator ride." He turned and winked at Susan, who blushed, and the two of them exited, leaving Mark and Susan and a million unspoken feelings behind.

Mark turned to look Susan in the eye. "Some first night back, huh?" Susan said nothing.

> > > 

Out on the street, Carol wondered what Doug's intentions were. She had frankly been surprised when he said that they should spend that night apart, but took it as a sign of how serious he was this time. She had been wrong – he'd changed.

"Where are we going Doug?"

"We're giving Mark & Susan some space." Doug started walking. "How was your date?" he asked playfully.

"Oh, it was heaven on earth," she said in a falsetto voice. "He rode in on a white horse and swept me off my feet." Doug smirked. "He sounds like a real prince."

Carol paused and looked back up to the apartment. "What do you think this means?

Doug looked with her. "I'm not sure...Let's go get some ice cream." This time was going to be different, Doug promised himself.

> > > 

Mark and Susan had cleared the table in virtual silence, both having retreated back to that point where they were afraid to open up. Susan tried to move quickly, sparing Mark as much work as possible given that cast.

Finally there was nothing left to do. Except acknowledge what had always been there.

Mark absently turned on the TV, sat on the couch and Susan sat next to him, looking at him, how tense he seemed, afraid even.

"Can we talk now?" She said it barely above a whisper. Mark looked at her and turned the TV off. "Sure."

"Do you want to know why I'm here?"

"I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up and find you're not, so I suppose you better tell me," he said, trying to force comfort into the situation. Susan grimaced.

"I remember this...this dream I had in Phoenix. You came out to see me at the hospital, and it was our last conversation all over again. I had this second chance I couldn't stop myself from crying and looking away..." Her voice trailed off as she felt a lump in her throat, while Mark was stunned at how they could both have had the same dream.

"I--I'm sorry Mark." Mark had to stop and make himself think about what to say. And for some reason, the most natural response came out:

"For what?"

Susan was stunned. He was supposed to reject her, to demand more of her. That was how she was sure this would work – she'd have to beg and plead. But he was acting like he never thought twice about it.

"For...fo—I mean, for how I left. I know I hurt you, leaving like that."

Mark looked down at the cast and spoke again, "At first, yeah. But I wasn't mad at you. Maybe at first...I was, I really was. I was so despondent, so pissed at everything. But you were truly making yourself happy, maybe for the first time. It was selfish of me to try and get in the way of that. I - mainly I'm just mad as myself."

It truly was tension that could be cut with a knife. Mark had left the door open, and all Susan had to do was walk through it.

"Do you...I...did you mean what you said?" She knew that answer in her heart, could see it in his face, but asked anyway, because nothing else was coming to her.

Mark turned his head to meet her eyes when she asked him that question. _Does she have to ask that?_ But it was so earnest, so meaningful, the two of them knew instantly what the answer was. Mark knew what he had to do – he'd wasted enough time on wishing and waiting and panicking and wanting.

He leaned his head in and gave her a kiss. She didn't pull away, in fact she seemed to pull him in like a magnet. This was even better than what had happened at the train station, cause they both could tell a dream come true was on the other end of it, not some nightmare. Finally, Mark came up for air.

She looked into his eyes and all her questions were answered. Not questions about him, but about herself. They were together now, and there was no need to question things anymore.

"Every word," Mark said, filling in the blank about exactly how much he meant what he'd told her at Union Station. She smiled and could feel tears in her eyes.

"I love you, Mark." And the tears feel, freely, and she leaned in to kiss him again. They lay there, on the couch, finally connected, finally free to have together what they each craved independently for far too long.

Mark broke once again to see her, touch her, tell himself one last time that it was for real, that her angelic voice and body were actually with him and not in his imagination. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Susan wiped a few tears back and nodded. "I don't ever want to leave." He kissed her once again.

> > > 

She went back to Phoenix late the next night, to tie up some other loose ends, settle her affairs at the hospital, see Chloe and Little Suzie. Mark had begun angling to get her a job at County as junior attending, and when Morganstern had his heart attack Mark was sad but knew it would create an opening if Weaver took on his Chief duties. They talked on the phone every night, reminiscing about the past and barely able to hide their excitement about the future. For both, it was a dream come true.

Doug too was living his own fantasy, feeling complete with Carol back in his life, the two of them relationship equals for the first time. As an added bonus, Susan would soon be back in town permanently and everybody in the ER noticed how much happier Mark was as a result. Nobody knew, as Mark had sworn Doug to secrecy and he had obliged for once. Doug sauntered up to his pal on one late June afternoon:

"Cubbies lost. Again." Mark winced, "Don't remind me, please." Doug saw a pile of papers underneath Mark's arm, finally out of a cast.

"What you got there?" Mark replied, "Carter's residency contract." Doug smiled and the two of them laughed when he said, "He has no idea what he's getting into."

"So how's Susan?" At the simple mention of the name, Mark glowed. "Couple of days now, just a few papers to sign off and what not. I don't know when exactly she'll be back yet, though." Doug allowed a quick smile to cross his face, but deadened his expression again before Mark could see it. He could tell how anxious Mark was to have Susan back for good. _Not long now, buddy_.

> > > 

At the 4th of July picnic, the paramedics were once again teeing off on the County pitching staff. Mark was stationed at third base, trying to be like his idol Ron Santo. Already 5-0, Olbes hit a double to lead off the third, and Mark'd had enough. The pride of County was getting pummeled.

"C'mon Jerry, give it up!"

Everybody wanted Jerry off the mound, but the prevailing attitude among everybody seemed to be _You_ _tell the gorilla he can't pitch_.

"I'm still trying to find my release point – c'mon Dr. Greene!"

Carol was the one stuck having to play catcher and yelled out at him, "You don't have a release point!"

From the on-deck circle Riley Brown hollered, "Bet he would if it was donut!" Everybody laughed. Jerry kicked the dirt on the mound, muttering to himself "Even Maddux went through this."

Just then Doug jogged in from centerfield. The whole infield – Mark, Malik, Carter, Carol, and Doyle– assembled on the mound as Doug called time.

Malik stated the obvious: "We're getting killed." Carter grinned, "Appropriate enough, we do work in the ER."

Carol was getting frustrated with everybody: "Shut up Carter, you've been there four days."

"Yet you make me feel so welcome," Carter replied with a touch of sass. Doug raised his hands to signal a truce.

"Everybody calm down." Doug placed a hand on Jerry's big shoulder, "Jerry, big man, you know I love you, we all got your back."

"But you suck!" Carol fumed again. Doug winced as he tried to break the news gently.

"I think we need to call in a fresh arm, OK? This doesn't mean we don't like you." Jerry glumly looked down, his feelings a little hurt.

Doug raised his arm towards the left field fence, where another pitcher was tossing warmup with Haleh. They all squinted to see who was coming in.

As Mark spun around to see the bullpen, he saw a woman with golden brown hair tied back underneath her baseball hat, which was being worn backwards. Coming in closer, the whole ER staff saw the last person they were expecting. Doug smiled as Mark stood there, stunned. She approached the mound.

"I hear you need a new arm", she said, all smiles. The rest of them were shocked, while Mark was grinning.

"We're getting killed, Susan."

She smiled and put her hands up, and Jerry tossed the ball her way. Who was he to argue?

"I pitched in high school, let's see if your new attending has anything left in the arm." The meeting on the mound broke into applause, and Carter, Doyle, and Malik each took a turn giving her a huge hug.

"Hey!" a voice called out from the plate. "Play ball!" And for the first time they saw who was behind the umpire's mask – Weaver.

"Probably explains why my strike zone's the size of a pea." Jerry muttered. Weaver spit out, "Hit the showers, Jerry."

Carter and Doyle gave Susan a high-five and the rest of them jogged back to their positions. Susan and Mark were standing on the mound, both of them lighting up the night with smiles.

Susan tried to focus as she pounded the ball in her mitt, "So who've we got?"

Mark turned to point out Brown. "You remember Riley, right? Good quick bat. He'll eat up the slider." Susan grinned and said slyly, "He's never seen my slider."

Mark looked at his mitt. "I never knew you pitched."

Susan looked him in the eyes and smiled. "I think you and I will get to know each other all over again."

Now Mark smiled brighter than before. Then on an impulse, he leaned in and gave her a kiss. The entire field erupted in cheers.

Just then, as if it had been waiting for such a precise moment, the 10:00 hour came and the fireworks from nearby Navy Pier began to shoot off into the sky, complementing the electricity and passion Mark and Susan were feeling at that moment. Everybody else could sense it, and they all felt like it was a moment of pure perfection.

Everybody, that is, except for Mark and Susan. For them it was much more than that, it was a moment of vindication, all the turmoil and joy and sadness and love they'd kept to themselves had finally become worth it. The entire world could've collapsed around them, and they wouldn't have noticed. In that moment, they didn't notice much of anything.

Except each other.

> > > 

**And they lived happily ever after. Or did they? Should I keep going?**


End file.
